


A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out

by Hale13



Series: Whump Bingo 2020 [2]
Category: Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Human Disaster Peter Parker, Irondad, Peter Parker Whump, Sick Peter Parker, Sickfic, Snarky Tony Stark, Vomiting, Whump, Whump Bingo, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-02
Updated: 2020-10-02
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:02:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26712631
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hale13/pseuds/Hale13
Summary: Thanks to Peter’s altered DNA since the Bite he can’t get sick anymore.  May and Mr. Stark are just over-reacting this flu season.  Peter feels great.Seriously.(For bingo space B2 - Becoming giggly from blood loss or high fever)
Relationships: Michelle Jones & Peter Parker, Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Whump Bingo 2020 [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1943986
Comments: 2
Kudos: 162





	A Fever You Can’t Sweat Out

**Author's Note:**

> Space B2! Enjoy!

Despite the Homecoming fiasco and his poor prioritization in the first few months after Germany, Peter was an excellent student. Before becoming Spider-Man he only missed school for illness and, while that was pretty frequent for him (he was always a sickly kid), his work was always immaculate and turned in on time. He was at the very top of his class by a wide margin and was involved in a constant rotation of extracurriculars and clubs based on the semester. In short, he was a shoo-in for a full-ride scholarship to the college of his choice.

Well. Before Uncle Ben. Before Spider-Man.

His grades were still excellent mind you, Aunt May would quite happily skin him alive otherwise, but he was no longer number one in his class. He had dropped all of his clubs except for decathlon. And now he generally missed days of school due to injury and not because he got his third head cold of the month and had to go to the ER due his asthma acting up.

In fact, he had yet to get sick since the spider bite and, as such, he and May both had been lulled into a false sense of security that he could no longer catch whatever virus was floating around. Mr. Stark had cautioned them both that Steve Rogers, actual Captain America, who had a similar metabolism and healing factor had gotten sick a few times after he was injected with the super soldier serum. That was the main reason May had made him get the flu shot that Dr. Cho and Mr. Stark had engineered for him last flu season. But it had been almost a year since the bite and he hadn’t even gotten a sniffle yet so he might have put off going by the tower’s MedBay to get this year’s version.

And maybe that was why he was playing fast and loose with his immune system this winter instead of being as cautious as he used to.

Ned and MJ, in addition to about a quarter of the school, had missed various days of classes over the past few weeks from the flu. The teachers and administrative staff had been on high alert and any student that so much as coughed in their presence was sent home for the day. Peter, probably foolishly, had volunteered to collect and deliver his friend’s missed work while they were absent (it was a nerd school after all – they had both nearly broken out in hives at the thought of falling behind). Unbeknownst to May he had also spent a bit of each day with his friends in person going over difficult concepts and collecting the previous days completed work to deliver to the appropriate teachers. As far as Ned and MJ knew, he couldn’t get sick and neither of them was together enough to be too precautious. They were teenagers after all. 

Well. The best laid plans and all that.

On a cold and gloomy morning in November Peter woke up to an aching head, a sore throat and an ominous feeling in his gut warning him against eating anything at all ever again. It was pretty easy for him to explain away all the symptoms; he had been out swinging a couple hours past his curfew last night. The air was cold and he had done a fair amount of talking to would be criminals which would account for the dryness in his throat. And he definitely ate some sort of sketchy fish taco a thankful food truck chef had given him in gratitude for saving him from a mugger. Peter had an iron stomach and a guilt complex a mile wide so he had eaten the food instead of tossing it like he should have done. 

He just needed to get up and moving to feel better that was all, he told himself as he laid anemically in bed and stared at his beaten up old alarm clock. He didn’t want to have to run or swing to school this morning so he needed to get up. Any time now.

Maybe five more minutes. 

It took a couple minutes after that to convince himself to get up, but he was able to eventually stumble out of bed. His normal morning routine was tossed out the window in favor of quickly brushing his teeth and pulling on the nearest clean-looking outfit he could find. After a moment to process, Peter added a sweater and a thick MIT hoodie he had stolen from Mr. Stark. He knew he couldn’t thermoregulate for shit but, jeez, why was he so cold? 

Thank god May was already at work or she would have never let him leave the apartment.

On his way to school, Peter let out a few rough sounding hacks that had disgusted looking New Yorkers parting like the Red Sea around him but it did get him a seat on the subway and a few feet of extra space in the form of vacant seats on either side of him; practically unheard of during the morning rush hour. People were really over-reacting, his throat was just a little dry was all.

Ned and MJ, both back at school after the weekend and looking much healthier, met him on the steps to Midtown. “Hey,” Peter greeted them before hacking. Huh, that felt a little wetter than before.

“Dude,” Ned said, blatantly ignoring the hand Peter had extended for their customary handshake and taking a step back from him. “Are you sick?” MJ still had her nose in her book but was peering at him suspiciously over the top.

Peter shook his head as vigorously as his headache would allow and injected some energy into his expression. “No way man, you know I can’t get sick anymore.”

“Right,” Ned said dubiously.

MJ just released a disbelieving huff and rolled her eyes. “Bullshit. Go home nerd.” 

“We have a Chemistry test tomorrow! There’s no way I’m missing the review today,” Peter protested, tucking his hands up into his hoodie sleeves and moving toward the door. It was way too cold to be standing outside. Ned and MJ shared a commiserating look, but gamely followed Peter into the bustling hallways before separating to go to their own lockers.

Despite not feeling at the top of his game, Peter made it through a Physics lab on electric currents, his Chemistry review and History before his head really started pounding. Probably because he skipped breakfast and his blood sugar was tanking; he would have to eat something high in calories for lunch if he wanted to make it through the day but his stomach had really started protesting over his last class. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Ned asked worriedly, reaching out to steady Peter as he stood up from his desk to go to lunch. “Your face is really red…”

“‘M good.” Peter mumbled, swinging his bag over his shoulder and slowly making his way out of the classroom and down the hall to the cafeteria. Ned’s phone vibrated obnoxiously in his hand and he swiftly unlocked it and started typing. Peter ignored his lagging friend and just resolutely made his way toward lunch, stomach turning when the smell of school meatloaf reached his nose before slowing and finally coming to an abrupt halt a few feet from the entrance to the lunch room.

“Peter?” Ned asked, stepping into his line of sight and pulling him out of the flow of foot traffic (pretty light since most of his peers rushed out of their last classes before lunch), a worried look on his face. Peter pursed his lips and took a couple shallow breathes through his nose and swallowed down the acid burning his esophagus.

“I… really don’t feel too great,” he muttered out quickly before smashing his mouth shut again and leaning against the lockers next to him.

“Duh, dumbass..” MJ’s voice broke through the bustle of noise echoing from the crowded cafeteria followed by an exhausted sounding ‘Language please Ms. Jones’. Peter blinked to clear his blurry vision and felt what color was left in his face drain at the sight of an exasperated Mr. Harrington standing in the hall behind MJ, the few remaining students giving him a wide berth and rushing to lunch or their next class.

“And how long have you felt unwell Mr. Parker?” His teacher asked, looking completely done with life and clearly questioning why he chose to be a teacher in the first place.

“Oh he looked like shit when he got here this morning,” MJ answered for him, clearly taking no heed to Mr. Harrington’s language warning. To be fair though, he didn’t bother to correct her again. Peter just shot his friend a betrayed look.

“To the nurse Peter. Go home and don’t come back until you’ve been fever free for 48 hours. Make sure he gets there without any detours Mr. Leeds.”

“Yes, sir!” Ned said, grabbing Peter’s arm to both support and steer him to the nurse’s office. Peter, for his part, wanted to protest but it was becoming increasingly obvious to him that he had a timer on how long his stomach contents were going to stay where they were and he would very much like to not vomit all over the hall.

Ms. Carter, the school nurse, only had to take one look at Peter’s face before sighing and handing him a plastic emesis bag and directing him to one of the unoccupied chairs in her small office. Abe gave him a lackluster wave of solidarity from his own seat, clutching his unused bag like a lifeline and looking pale. Ned dumped him in a chair, wished him well and beat a hasty retreat with a promise to text him later to check on him. Peter couldn’t blame his friend, he had just gotten over the flu and probably did not want to be around a bunch of sick people.

Peter leaned his head back against the wall and took deep, even breaths with his eyes closed. He just needed to get home and then he could spend the rest of the day (and maybe the night too at this rate) on the bathroom floor expelling everything he’d ever eaten in his life. He only came back around long enough for Ms. Carter to take his temperature and cluck disapprovingly at the results and to watch Abe shuffle out of the office behind his father. 

“Time to go kiddo,” a soft voice whispered lowly to him, gently shaking his shoulder to rouse him. Peter opened his eyes and had to blink a couple of times to bring Mr. Stark into focus.

“Mr. Stark?” He asked dumbly, swallowing the saliva pooling in his mouth and adjusting his grip on his emesis bag. He had to be hallucinating – why would Mr. Stark be picking him up from school? How high was his fever?

“That’s me Typhoid Mary. Do you need help standing up?” His mentor asked before pulling Peter up and putting a supporting arm around his waist. Peter’s stomach protested violently for a second but settled back down to a ominous grumbling after he took a few deep breaths. “Thought you couldn’t get sick Underoos?” Mr. Stark asked sarcastically, barely holding in a snicker.

“Mr. Stark, and I mean this with the utmost respect, kindly shut your hole,” Peter groaned, stumbling alongside his mentor and ignoring the shameless gawking look on Ms. Carter’s face. He was pretty sure the majority of his teachers and peers still didn’t believe that he had an internship with Mr. Stark. Well, one less thing to stress about now he supposed.

“Oh got a little bite to you today?” Mr. Stark sounded positively giddy as he dragged Peter out the door and toward the very ostentatious Rolls Royce sitting in the wraparound drive way to the school. Peter could make out Happy’s silhouette in the driver’s seat. “That’s good, about time you dropped some of that politeness. Who knew all it would take was the flu?” He opened up to door and, in stark contrast to his deferent attitude, gently lowered Peter into the spacious back seat, tucking a blanket from the floor board around him before hopping in on the opposite side.

“To the Tower if you please Mr. Hogan,” Tony said, typing rapid fire into his phone. “And mind the curves unless you want to spend the afternoon deep cleaning leather. Hey! It would be like a repeat of the 90s for you, a little blast from the past.” Mr. Stark teased, wiggling his eyebrows. Happy shot them both a disgusted look in the rear view mirror before bluntly reminding Peter to make sure to aim for the bag in his hands and pulling softly away from the curb. 

Peter cuddled up further into the blanket, shivers wracking his spine, and leaned into his mentor’s side. “Today’s your lucky day Spider-Kid,” Tony informed him, slipping the phone back into his jacket pocket. “According to the nurse you have a temp of 103.2”

“You and I have drastically different definitions of ‘lucky’.” Peter told him, pulling his legs up under the blanket with him to help conserve warmth.

“Well it just so happens that Brucie-Bear got into town yesterday. I sent him the analysis of your DNA and blood work that we did and he’s super excited to meet you to talk about all the squishy, gross biological side of science-y things that your little heart desires. How do you feel about meeting one of your idols?” 

Peter slowly turned his head to look at Tony Stark. His mentor looked positively ecstatic to introduce him to one of the ‘science bros’ as he coined them. He also just noticed that Mr. Stark was wearing a old t-shirt with holes in it covered in grease, absolutely grotty sweat pants and still had welding goggles perched on his forehead. Peter was in the back of a $250,000 designer car, ready to vomit all over ridiculously over-priced leather, next to actual Anthony Edward Stark (Iron Man!) who was wearing thrift store knock offs on his way to meet the Bruce Banner for the first time. 

Peter’s going to totally blame it on the fever later but he completely broke down into hysterical laughter. Both Mr. Stark and Happy gave him identical startled looks as tears started rolling down his face and he gasped for breath.

He then proceeded to, finally and dramatically, make good use of his emesis bag.

“Let it all out buddy.” Mr. Stark said consolingly while rubbing his hand up and down Peter’s spine. After a few rounds and a couple false starts, Peter twisted the bag closed and took a series of slow, deep breaths, wiping the dried tear tracks off his cheeks. “Better?” His mentor asked.

“Eh, maybe?” Peter answered carefully. He only had the one bag so he really needed to keep it together until they got to the tower. Mr. Stark breathed a soft ‘hmmmm’ and placed his hand to the back of Peter’s neck before bringing it up to cup his forehead. Despite his body feeling so cold, his face was burning and he leaned gratefully into the cool hand on his face, eyes fluttering shut.

“You’re hot enough to fry an egg there kid,’ Mr. Stark told him, a touch of concern in his tone. “Let’s step on it a bit Happy.” He said, pulling out a fresh emesis bag from the compartment in the door and handing it to Peter before taking the old one from him and disposing of it in a compartment that held a hidden trash can.

“Thanks Mr. Stark,” Peter said before abruptly bending over the fresh bag and retching. He felt the gentle hand return to rubbing his back.

“For you, Pete? Anytime.”

**Author's Note:**

> I don’t have a tumblr but join me over on Twitter @Hale1310 - I just set it up and I’m looking for some prompts to combine with these bingo prompts and for separate stories!
> 
> I hope you enjoyed!


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